


Time Makes You Bolder

by pringlesaremydivision



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, College, Coming of Age, Fatherhood, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, High School, M/M, Middle School, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6048322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's like this: Rhett and Link have built their lives around each other from the very beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Makes You Bolder

**Author's Note:**

> This has been consuming my life for over a month now. I've tried to get all the major details right but there's probably quite a bit I got wrong, for which I apologize. This is my love letter to what's honestly one of the most beautiful relationships I've ever seen. These idiots make me Very Emotional.
> 
> Super-huge thanks to the squad for all their editing and encouraging help. I love you all Marta.

It’s like this: it’s the summer after third grade and Link has walked in on his step-sister Emmie kissing her boyfriend _twice_ now.

“—and she’s got her face all scrunched up, man, and they’re making all these weird noises…” Link trails off, wrinkling his nose. He looks over at Rhett, expecting a response, but Rhett’s just looking at him with his eyes glazed over all funny, like he’s there but he’s not really there. “Rhett?”

“Hm,” Rhett murmurs, real quiet. The look on his face makes Link shiver even though it’s blazingly hot out here, the North Carolina sun beating down on them through the gaps in the shade of the trees. It’s kind of like the look Rhett gets when there’s a pizza on the table but they’re not allowed to eat until everybody sits down and says grace; an impatient hunger that Link doesn’t really understand. Not when there’s no pizza.

Link looks away, his stomach turning like it does after he eats too much candy. He rubs a hand against the back of his neck, the skin warm to the touch. He’s just about to suggest they go inside, unsettled for reasons he doesn’t quite understand, when he hears from behind him—

“We should try it.”

Link whips his head around so fast he swears he hears something crack. Rhett’s got his eyes closed, now, but as Link watches he opens them slowly, sluggishly, like the heat is making him work at half-time. Rhett’s always like that, slow and easy and calm, and it makes Link so angry sometimes, when he can’t seem to stop thinking or moving or worrying at breakneck speed.

“What,” he says, flatly.

“I’m serious, man,” Rhett answers, looking down at the grass by his feet. He runs his long fingers through the blades, back and forth, before plucking a single blade and bringing it up to his face to examine it. Link doesn’t know what’s so fascinating about a dang piece of grass but it means Rhett isn’t looking at him, so he’s fine with it. “We should—I mean, we’re gonna get girlfriends someday, right? That’s what you do when you grow up.”

Link’s stomach feels funny again, tight and hard. “Right,” he whispers.

“And you don’t wanna look like an idiot when you kiss your girlfriend, because then she’ll tell everybody and they’ll all laugh at you and you’ll never get another date.” Rhett’s brow is furrowed, his gaze intense as he spins the blade of grass between his finger and thumb, and Link’s not sure because it’s so hot out and they’re both so tan but it _seems_ like Rhett might be blushing and why would Rhett be blushing?

“I—I guess I didn’t think of it like that,” Link answers slowly, the words weighing heavy on his tongue. He hates looking stupid. “But—”

 _But boys don’t kiss boys_ , is what he wants to say, but he can’t get the words out.

Rhett looks up from his blade of grass, finally. “I know,” he says, like he’s reading Link’s mind. “But it ain’t like we’re gonna tell anybody, or that we’re—I mean, we ain’t datin’.”

Link nods fervently. “Right. Right.” His skin feels itchy. They’ve been sitting in this grass too long. He’s probably covered in bug bites. He’s—

Rhett’s leaning forward.

Link yelps, falling backward as his elbows give out from underneath him, and he lands flat on his back. For a moment he can’t do anything but stare at the canopy of trees above him, winded and dizzy, mentally scolding himself for being so dang jumpy. He’s always like this, twitchy and nervous, and he hates it. He _hates_ it.

Rhett’s face hovers into his field of vision. “You okay?” he asks, and the concern is obvious enough in his eyes that Link forgives him for the laughter that bubbles up afterwards. Link groans.

“Shut up, man, I’m fine. I just—”

“Nah,” Rhett cuts in quickly, shaking his head. “I shoulda warned you. My fault.” The laughter is gone from his voice now. “Could—do you think—”

Link pushes himself up into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his head gingerly. He didn’t hit it that hard, but it’s probably still gonna end up hurting later. He sighs. “Yeah,” he answers, looking at Rhett’s torn-up sneakers because he can’t seem to make himself look upwards. “What should I—”

“Close your eyes, maybe? So I don’t scare you again?”

Link looks up at that, glaring, but there’s no malice or scorn on Rhett’s face, and he immediately feels bad for thinking that way. He lets out a slow breath, then nods, letting his eyes fall closed. “Okay, now what?”

“Uh.” There’s a scuffling noise, and when Rhett speaks again, he’s much closer. Link can feel his breath tickling the curve of his ear, and he fights back a nervous giggle. “I don’t—you’re the one who’s seen people kissin’, dude. I’ve only seen my mom and dad and they just kiss each other on the cheek sometimes.”

“Eww,” Link responds. Rhett giggles, and this time Link lets himself laugh too. Link thinks for a moment, remembering back to what he was able to see before Emmie realized he was standing in the doorway and yelled at him to get out. “I think—maybe you’re supposed to hold my face?”

Rhett snorts. “Your head gonna fall off?”

“I don’t _know_ , man, I’m just tellin’ you what I saw. You wanna be good at this or not?”

Link can hear Rhett swallow. “Yeah. Sorry. Okay. Like—like this?”

A large palm comes up to cup the side of Link’s face, gentle and slow, and Link can’t help the noise he makes, a gasp that gets strangled in his throat. He waits for the laughter to come, but Rhett is silent, and Link is absurdly grateful.

“Okay. And. Okay. You gotta kinda—you should tilt your head? I guess so we don’t hit our noses together?” Everything’s coming out like a question, because Link knows _what_ he saw but he’s not sure of any of it, not sure of the _hows_ or the _whys_ , only sure of the fact that Rhett’s hand feels real nice against his cheek and that he’s both terrified and excited right now, like right before they rode that roller coaster last summer, the one Link thought he was gonna throw up on, the one that left him shaking and grinning afterwards, a matching smile on Rhett’s face as they raced back to get in line again.

“Okay.” Rhett’s fingers tense momentarily against Link’s face, like he’s shifting position, and then all of a sudden Link can feel warm breath against his lips, smelling faintly of lemonade. Link’s glad of Rhett’s hand, because right now he feels like his head might actually fall off. He tries, in vain, to steady his breathing, but gives up when he realizes Rhett is breathing just as fast as he is.

“And then we—you just—” Link gulps. He feels like he’s on one of the rocks in the Cape Fear River, the current rushing around his ankles, waiting to tug him in. The only way to conquer that, he knows, is to jump in before he can be pulled in, to control the moment, and so he leans forward and presses his lips against Rhett’s.

It’s clumsy and they end up bumping noses a little anyway, and Rhett’s lips are chapped and dry, but Link feels strangely triumphant when he hears Rhett’s intake of breath, pleased that he’s managed to turn the tables and surprise Rhett for once. Link doesn’t know how long it lasts, and he’s not entirely sure he gets the fuss over it—so their lips are together, so what?—but when Rhett finally pulls away and rests his forehead against Link’s, and Link opens his eyes, Rhett’s looking at him like he just discovered another planet past Pluto.

“ _Wow_ ,” Rhett breathes, and Link’s whole body feels like it’s on fire.

* * *

(It’s too many sleepovers to count, cold winter nights curled up in bed together until they get too big to fit, warm summer camping trips in Rhett’s backyard, sleeping bags laid out under the stars, the thrill of being on their own even if they can see Rhett’s mom moving around in the kitchen. It’s birthday parties at Pizza Inn and McDonald’s, the group of boys changing year to year, friends moving in and out of their circle, the two of them the only constants. It’s Link braving the pool at the country club just to be near Rhett, even though he doesn’t know anybody else and he’s not that comfortable with swimming. It’s scraped knees and lost teeth and bug bites and sunburns.

It’s knowing no matter what happens, Link has Rhett’s back and Rhett has his.)

* * *

It’s like this: Rhett’s been dating Amber for a month now and—

“Sometimes I feel her like, looking at me,” Rhett mumbles, picking at a piece of string coming off of Link’s bedspread. He’s only grown more gangly as the years have passed, limbs looking too long for his body. He’s sprawled diagonal on Link’s bed, leaving just enough room for Link to squeeze next to him, between him and the wall. He doesn’t mind.

“She’s your girlfriend, shouldn’t she look at you?” Link asks. Granted, when he dated Amber last year, they didn’t really look at each other much, but—that was seventh grade. They were just kids then. They’re in eighth grade now, real grown-ups.

“Yeah, but I mean—” Rhett darts his eyes upward, fixes Link with a stare so intense he can’t help but giggle.

“She looks at you like that? Whew!” Link shakes his head. “You look like a dang hawk, man. If a girl looked at me like that, I’d…”

He trails off. Rhett looks like he’s been kicked in the stomach, and Link has never had it in him to be mean.

“Sorry. So she—”

“I think she wants me to kiss her, man,” Rhett spits out in a rush, words tumbling over one another, so that it takes Link a moment to even parse what he’s said.

“You ain’t kissed her yet?” Links asks, eyebrows raised. Rhett scowls. Link continues, feeling strangely powerful. “I kissed her, when we were goin’ together.”

“Yeah,” Rhett answers, looking angrier every minute, “but you didn’t _kiss_ her kiss her, did you?”

Link pulls a face. He and Amber kissed just twice in the couple of months they went together, soft, dry presses of lips that made Link’s heart race as hard as when he managed to watch part of a Skinemax flick before the connection got scrambled. He’s pretty sure that’s not what Rhett’s talking about.

“With tongue?” he whispers, and Rhett nods. “Nuh-uh.”

“‘s what I thought.” Rhett looks calmer now, but the calm only lasts for a moment before his face grows troubled again. “I don’t—I don’t get what to—”

“I kiss my shower sometimes,” Link blurts, then feels a wash of shame roll over him. _Why_ had he said that, what kind of freak does that, much less _admits_ it out loud, what is _wrong_ with him.

Rhett tilts his head to the side, studying Link like he’s a math problem, and Link can’t help it, he looks away, staring at the ceiling, wishing he were a million miles away, wishing he were anywhere but here. “With tongue?” Rhett asks, and there’s no judgement in his voice, just curiosity.

“I mean, I clean it first,” Link offers weakly. He can feel his face heating up. “The—the shower, not my tongue.” He can’t seem to stop talking. He wants to, desperately, but his mouth isn’t getting the memo. “It ain’t any good, since it doesn’t kiss back, but I think—”

“Show me?” Rhett interrupts, and Link feels like he’s about to choke.

“ _What_ ,” Link responds, his voice coming out in a strangled squeak. He tears his eyes from the ceiling, gapes open-mouthed at Rhett, who’s got his head buried in his arms, the tips of his ears bright red where they’re peeking out. Link can only imagine how red his own face is. He’s burning up. It’s gotta be a hundred degrees in here, easy.

“I don’t wanna look stupid,” Rhett mutters, the sound muffled from the cave his arms make. “I really like her, Link.”

“Then practice on your own dang shower, man!” Link says, shaky for reasons he can’t quite figure out. He’s cold now, on the verge of shivering, and his skin feels too tight for his body, like he could shed it like those lizards he and Rhett caught at the beginning of the school year. For a moment he wishes they were back by the edge of Buies Creek, just the two of them, scrambling through the grass to catch the darting lizards, getting muddy and sweaty, making each other crack up, not caring about anything else. He likes girls, he does, but sometimes he really hates them.

Rhett raises his head slightly, the expression on his face pained. “You said yourself it doesn’t kiss back, how am I supposed to get any good at it like that?” he answers, and he sounds so sad Link feels his resolve crumbling. Rhett’s been—different, lately, trying real hard to be like his brother Cole, tough and strong and cool, not affected by anything, and it makes moments like this, where he lets himself be vulnerable in front of Link, even harder to resist.

Link’s pretty sure he’s never been able to tell Rhett no, not for long.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay, but—”

Rhett sits up so quick it makes Link dizzy to watch, imagining the blood rushing to his head. His face transforms, from worry into a bright smile, one that Link can’t help but respond to with a smile of his own, even though he’s so nervous he feels like he might puke all over his bed.

“Really?” Rhett asks, and Link giggles, running a hand over his mouth. Rhett looks so dang happy, green eyes sparkling, and Link thinks pretty much anything is worth it if it makes Rhett look like that.

“Yeah, you freakin’ dork. Just—we ain’t gonna tell anybody, right?”

Rhett raises an eyebrow. “Course we ain’t gonna tell anybody. Can you imagine what Amber would say if she found out we were kissin’? She’d dump me before I could say anything, and neither of us would ever get another girlfriend as long as we lived.”

Rhett huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, like he can’t believe Link would ever be that dumb. Link laughs, too, because it’s expected, but it’s cut short. His stomach is starting to hurt again. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Sorry. I’m just being stupid.”

“It’s okay, buddy,” Rhett says, clapping him hard on the shoulder. His hand lingers for a moment, warm even through the fabric of Link’s shirt. Link’s torn between telling him to back off and asking him to—to what? To touch him more? He’s not a freakin’—he’s—he likes _girls_ , dangit.

He pushes the thought away, shifts his body so he’s facing Rhett on the bed, their faces only a few inches apart. Up close, Rhett looks nervous too, which makes Link feel a little better. He licks his lips, an action that Rhett mimics a second later, and then they just stare at each other for a long moment.

“Uh, I guess—we should—”

Rhett nods. “Tilt our heads, yeah, like—”

 _Like when we kissed before_ , Link fills in mentally, but neither of them says anything. He swallows. Reaching a hand out, hating himself for the way it’s shaking, he cups the side of Rhett’s face, then leans in.

At first it’s just like the first time they kissed, a dry press of lips that feels so strange and yet so _familiar_ that Link feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Rhett’s lips are still chapped, not soft and glossy-sweet like Amber’s were, and he smells like the detergent his mom always uses, not like vanilla and hair spray. It’s not the smell of his own house, but it smells like home anyway.

Then Rhett tightens the hand that’s still on his shoulder and makes the tiniest questioning noise, and Link remembers what he’s supposed to be doing. Fighting down a shiver, he opens his mouth and lets his tongue flick out at Rhett’s lips, just a tentative little lick.

It’s like a line of dominos falling: Rhett gasps, making his mouth drop open, warm and humid against Link’s lips, which means Link’s tongue, no longer meeting any resistance, plunges messily into Rhett’s mouth, colliding with the hard line of his top teeth.

There’s a squeak that Link realizes, belatedly, came from him, but he’s in too deep to care, because Rhett is gripping his shoulder so tight he’s pretty sure he’ll have bruises tomorrow, and he huffs out a breath through his nose before touching the tip of his tongue to Link’s. It’s weird, it’s foreign and strange, and it’s easily the most electrifying thing Link’s ever felt, including the time he actually got electrocuted by that cattle fence a few years back.

He doesn’t know how long the kiss goes on, doesn’t even know if they’re doing it right—it’s so _wet_ , so sloppy—just knows that when Rhett pulls back he chases him, wanting more. He pulls up short when he realizes what he’s doing, mortified, but Rhett doesn’t look annoyed. “It’s just—my jaw kinda hurts,” Rhett grins, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “But, um. Maybe we could. If you wanted, we could try again. Later?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Link nods, and then, suddenly, neither of them can stop laughing.

* * *

 

(It’s sneaking into the cow pasture in the dead of summer, flies buzzing and the stench almost overpowering, two sheets of paper and a piece of glass between them. It’s an oath to always stick together, to be best friends forever, to do something big and awesome, to create something amazing.

It’s a bond, a promise, signed in blood, the slash of the glass against Link’s palm making him dizzy—not with the pain of it but with the sight of red welling up against his skin. It’s Rhett holding him steady as he dips his finger into the cut and signs his name, cursive messy and childlike. It’s watching the blood dry in the midday heat, bright red fading quickly into a dull maroon, and folding up the papers carefully, so carefully, like they’re precious artefacts, not sheets torn out of a notebook, edges ragged.

It’s the paper staying in Link’s wallet, through girlfriends who come and go, awkward double dates and even more awkward breakups, none of which hurt as much as when Link’s wallet is stolen at a football game two years later.)

* * *

It’s like this: somehow Rhett is dating Amber again, because he’s gone through every other girl in all of Harnett Central and now he’s starting back at the beginning, and—

“I know she’s waitin’ until marriage and that’s fine, I ain’t gonna force her to do anything, and I’m—I wanna wait too, but—” Rhett breaks off, chuckling. “The hell am I tellin’ you for, anyway? You haven’t even been with anybody since Missy, and that was almost a year ago, and I guarantee you didn’t have her gettin’ you so hard you could cut diamonds, then up and leavin’ like it ain’t nothin’.”

Link glares. “Fuck you, man, you don’t know anything. For all you know I coulda f-fucked her when we were datin’.” The stutter gives him away and Rhett just laughs, damn him. He’s never been able to get anything past Rhett, might as well be completely transparent for all the good his attempts at lying do him.

He’s furious, suddenly, furious at himself for not being able to lie worth a damn, furious at Rhett for being able to read him so easily, furious at Amber for—he doesn’t quite know why he’s furious at Amber.

“So what’s she do, Rhett?” Link spits. “She get all up in your lap and start squirmin’ that sweet little ass around like she just can’t sit still?” He doesn’t know where the words are coming from, but he’s so angry right now, and he just wants to rile Rhett up, the way Rhett always seems to be able to do to him. It seems to be working, because Rhett’s eyebrows are drawing together and he’s got fire in his eyes, but Link isn’t about to stop.

“She let you touch her tits? She looks real fine out there when she’s cheerleading, those tits bouncing up and down under that tight little sweater when she waves her pom-poms.” He’s astonished at the words coming out of his mouth, feels like a real asshole for even thinking them, much less saying them out loud, but it’s worth it when Rhett reacts.

“Shut the fuck up, Link,” Rhett growls, “don’t you dare talk about my girl like that,” and Link can see his fingers flexing, tensing then releasing, on the pillow he’s holding, like he’s a minute away from snapping. Link just grins, sharp and mean, and keeps talking.

“She was my girl once too, remember that? Before you had her. Maybe you just ain’t man enough for her, ever think that? Maybe she knows you can’t give her what she wants so she ain’t even gonna bother.” Rhett’s whole face is red now and Link knows he should stop, knows he’s crossed a real line, but he’s riled up now too, blood pumping fast through his veins, energizing him. “Maybe I should show her what a real man—”

Rhett throws the pillow down and launches himself at Link with a roar, moving so quick Link doesn’t have a chance to react. The full force of Rhett’s body hits him square in the chest and they tumble down to the floor together, and the impact hurts like hell but Link laughs anyway because he knows it’ll just make Rhett madder.

“What’re you gonna do Rhett, you gonna hit me? You gonna beat me up ‘cause you ain’t gettin’ any from your girl?” Above him, Rhett’s face is a mask of rage, and for a moment Link’s actually afraid. Then he shifts, just a little, and feels the unmistakable outline of Rhett’s dick, hard against his thigh. He presses his leg up on instinct, grin turning feral when Rhett gasps at the contact.

“Or maybe it ain’t like that at all,” Link whispers, moving his leg just a little, watching Rhett’s eyes go wide. “Maybe Amber ain’t what you need.” He wants to tease Rhett more, wants to call him names and make fun of him, but he can’t do it, not when he can feel his own dick stirring in his pants, filling out and making him flush.

“Link,” Rhett whispers, but it’s shaky and scared, nothing like the growling bravado from only a few minutes ago. Honestly, he looks terrified now, and it softens the edge of Link’s anger too.

“Hey,” he says, reaching a hand up to curl around Rhett’s neck, the edges of his buzz cut tickling his fingers. Rhett flinches at the touch but then leans into it, unconsciously, like a cat wanting to be petted. “Hey,” he says again, scratching softly at the base of Rhett’s skull, watching his eyes flutter shut. “I can—I could help you out, if you want.”

Moving slow like Rhett’s an animal he doesn’t want to spook, like that raccoon they tried to sneak up on last month in the tangle of trees behind the school, Link shifts his body so he’s directly underneath Rhett, then hooks a finger in Rhett’s belt loop and tugs him down gently. A little bit of maneuvering, and then their dicks are pressed together through the denim of their shorts, and Link hisses through his teeth at the contact.

Above him, Rhett’s eyes fly open. “ _Shit_ ,” he groans, and Link can’t help but grin, always pleased when he can get a reaction out of Rhett. Tentatively, he ups the ante, rolling his hips up against Rhett, increasing the pressure. This time they both groan.

Link’s in another world. He’s jacked off so much since hitting puberty he was actually scared he’d use all his sperm up; was so worried he risked humiliation and asked the substitute teacher they had in biology if that was possible. His hand is good, it feels real nice, but _this_ —Rhett’s weight on top of him, the grunts he’s making as they thrust their hips together, the way he keeps biting his bottom lip—this is _incredible._

“Yeah,” he mutters, clutching at the back of Rhett’s oversized shirt, “fuck, Rhett, keep—keep doin’ that,” and Rhett grinds his hips down, dropping his head onto Link’s shoulder, pants of breath sending puffs of air against Link’s cheek. Link turns his head, their jaws colliding, and the scrape of Rhett’s stubble burns for a minute but Link doesn’t even care because then Rhett’s mouth is on his and they’re kissing, harsh and rough and messy, and Link’s head is spinning and he’s _so close_.

Rhett’s hips stutter suddenly, his rhythm going haywire, and then he tenses and gasps in Link’s grip before grinding down _hard_ once more with a shuddery groan, and Link realizes, _shit_ , Rhett just came. _He_ just made Rhett come.

That’s more than enough to push Link over the edge and before he knows it he’s bucking his hips up and he’s coming too, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, biting his lip to keep from yelling. None of the times he’s ever jacked it in bed or in the shower have ever compared to how he feels right now.

It takes a moment to even start breathing properly again, and when Link opens his eyes, Rhett is staring at him, the look on his face something Link doesn’t quite recognize. Before he has a chance to ask, Rhett collapses full-body on Link, going loose and boneless, pinning Link underneath him.

“Dude, what—”

“‘m dead,” Rhett mumbles.

“Don’t start this bullshit, man, get off me.” Now that they’re done, the high from his orgasm subsiding, Link realizes the mess in his shorts is rapidly cooling, getting sticky and gross. “Get _up_ , man,” he mutters, “I’m all nasty.”

“Nope. I’m dead.” Rhett sounds like he’s half-asleep already. Link shoves at his shoulder, trying to make him move, but he won’t budge, and Link’s got no strength in his arms, muscles still rubbery like jelly.

“ _Rhett_.”

“Still dead.”

Link sighs.

* * *

(It’s going to junior prom together but not _together_ , just two single guys going stag, driving to the dance together, wearing matching tuxedos with shiny lapels. It’s their dates for senior prom getting annoyed at them because they spend too much time taking pictures of each other, goofy faces and stupid handshakes that make for a roll of film where the girls are in maybe a handful of photos.

It’s the sinking feeling in Link’s stomach when Rhett talks about how much his dad wants him to go for a basketball scholarship because that wasn’t the plan, they were gonna go to film school, and what’s Link supposed to do if Rhett ends up going pro? It’s rough, messy kisses when they can sneak away, bodies pressed together in dark corners, in the cab of Link’s truck parked on the bank of the river, under the bleachers after soccer practice is over and everyone else has gone home. It’s Rhett reassuring Link they’re gonna stay together no matter what.

It’s both of them getting accepted to NC State for engineering, something neither of them really wants to do. It’s Link not caring in the least if they study trash collecting if it means they’ll be together. It’s Rhett grinning bright as the sun, already making new plans, and Link happily going along for the ride.)

* * *

It’s like this: they’re on their own for the first time in their lives, and Raleigh seems like a completely different world after the insularity of Buies Creek. They can be whoever they want, _do_ whatever they want, and—

“Fuck, Link, yes, just like that,” Rhett whispers into the curve of Link’s shoulder, his breath warm against Link’s skin. Link revels in the fact that they’re alone, the only ones with access to the room they’re sharing; revels in knowing that nobody's gonna come in and catch them, that they can take their time and go slow, so slow.

Rhett’s folks had barely slammed the car doors, waving cheerfully as they drove away, before Link had slammed Rhett down onto the bed, knocking the breath out of him. Rhett’s a good half a foot taller than Link now, probably always gonna be that way—Link’s pretty sure he’s done growing—but he doesn’t mind so much because Rhett goes down so easy for him, like Link’s the bigger one. It’s the kind of power that Link isn’t used to, the kind of power he can get drunk on, easy.

Link _wants_ to go slow, he really does, but Rhett’s bucking his hips up like a damn bronco, letting little whines escape his soft pink lips as he tries to get some friction on his dick. There’s barely enough room for both of them here on the bottom bunk, limbs tangled together, the both of them generating so much heat it’s like they’re in a humid cave. Link licks the sweat that’s starting to pool in Rhett’s collarbones, relishing the sharp, salty taste of him.

“So good,” he murmurs, scratching his nails against Rhett’s side, chuckling when Rhett squirms away from the touch. “You’re so ticklish, man.”

“ _Link_ ,” Rhett pleads, and Link raises his eyes to look at him, heart thudding in his chest at the look on his face. Rhett’s eyebrows are drawn low, a dark ridge that’s so at odds with the blond stubble covering his head. He’s got his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and there’s so much heat in his eyes Link can practically feel the temperature rising. They’re both gonna melt if they keep this up, and right now Link can’t imagine a better way to go.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, running a hand between them and circling Rhett’s dick loosely with his thumb and forefinger. Rhett slams his head back, eyes falling shut, and lets out a long, low groan that Link hurries to swallow with a kiss, muffling the sound until it’s little more than a vibration against his lips. For a moment he’s consumed with the unfairness of all of it, just wants to be able to make Rhett moan as loud as he can without anyone giving a damn because it ain’t any of their _business_ , wants to take him out for pizza and sit next to him in the booth and not have anyone give them weird looks, wants to kiss him in public without having to worry about getting beaten up. Raleigh may be worlds away from Buies Creek but they’re still in North Carolina, and Link is acutely aware that they have to keep being cautious if they want to get anywhere in life.

He doesn’t realize he’s stopped all his movements until Rhett pulls back from what isn’t a kiss any longer, just two sets of lips resting against one another, and looks at him searchingly from heavy-lidded eyes. Link wants to look away, ashamed of himself, angry at his brain for not being able to shut off for a damn _minute_ , but Rhett brings a hand up and threads his fingers through Link’s hair, anchoring him.

“Come back here, baby,” Rhett says, and Link can’t help the shiver that goes through him. Those kind of names are reserved for girlfriends, not something two punk kids are supposed to say to one another, but hearing it lights Link up anyway, half-expecting to see his skin glow from it. It must show on his face, because Rhett smiles, small and soft, and presses a kiss against the thin skin of Link’s neck. “Come on, darlin’,” he whispers, scraping his teeth against the underside of Link’s jaw, making Link gasp. “We got a week til classes start, sweetheart, don’t you dare start worryin’ now.” Every sweet name is punctuated by another kiss, slow and warm, until Link is trembling and overwhelmed and entirely, completely present in this too-small bed.

“There we go, honey,” Rhett murmurs, low and encouraging, and Link feels, for a brief moment, like he’s going to cry. He kisses Rhett deep and dirty, licking into his mouth with renewed energy, reveling in the noises he tastes on his tongue. They may not be able to be as loud as they’d like, but this is still a hundred times better than having to stifle every sound for fear that their parents will hear, and Link is determined to take every advantage.

He dips his hand lower, between Rhett’s thighs, cupping his balls before pressing gently against his hole. Rhett’s gasp makes him pull back from their kiss, Link searching his face for any hint of discomfort. “Is this okay?” he asks, rubbing softly against the puckered skin, fire in his veins at the thought of being _inside_ Rhett. They’ve never done this before.

“ _Yes_ ,” Rhett exhales, spreading his legs wider. His jaw goes slack as Link continues to rub against him, feeling the muscle twitch minutely under the pad of his thumb. “ _Oh_ , yeah, yeah.”

“You ever—?”

“Yeah,” Rhett whispers. “Couple’a times. In—in the shower.”

Link almost chokes on the inhale, the image playing itself out in his mind. Rhett, the showerhead pounding down on him, one long forearm braced against the tile wall as he reaches back to explore, fingers maybe slicked with shampoo or maybe just spit. Rhett, dripping wet, his legs spread and shaking, thrusting a finger or two into himself trying to hit that sweet spot, maybe biting his arm to keep from yelling out when he finds it. Rhett, flushed and glistening, spurting come all over the wall, watching it drip down as he tries to catch his breath, dizzy with the intensity of it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Link says, low and reverent. “Oh, fuck.” He pulls his hand back and sucks at two of his fingers until they’re slick and dripping, watching Rhett watch the movement of his tongue.

“You tell me if I—”

Rhett nods. “I will. You ain’t gonna, though.” He runs a hand through Link’s hair, tugging gently. “Trust you.”

Link drops a kiss right under Rhett’s belly button. “Idiot.” He looks up, flashing a quick grin at the annoyed look on Rhett’s face, then schools his expression into something more sober. “Okay. Okay, I’m gonna —”

Rhett’s groan as Link pushes inside, breaching him with the slippery tip of his middle finger, is almost enough to make Link come right then and there. “You’re so _tight_ ,” Link whispers, awed, feeling the clench of Rhett’s inner muscles around his finger, immediately imagining that sweet hot pressure around his dick. His vision swims, and he has to rest his forehead on Rhett’s thigh, breathing deep, until it steadies.

“You okay, man?” Rhett asks after a moment, and Link lets out a snort, raising his head.

“Should be askin’ you that. I’m fine. You okay?”

“Mm. I’m good. Could, uh —” Rhett throws his forearm over his eyes, bites his lip, and Link has to keep from laughing because he’s never seen Rhett this _bashful_ before.

“Yeah?” he prompts, pressing his finger in just a little further, up to the second knuckle, watching Rhett’s abs contract with the strain of keeping himself still. He shouldn’t tease like this, should just give Rhett what he knows Rhett wants, but there’s no fun in that.

“Gimme more, please, Link,” Rhett whispers finally, and Link moans. Dropping his head down between Rhett’s thighs, he spits on his fingers til they’re dripping with it, then presses two inside. Kissing his way up Rhett’s sweaty torso, the salt from his skin sharp on his tongue, Link fingers Rhett slow and steady, tight muscles loosening little by little.

“That feel good?” Link asks, when he reaches Rhett’s ear, tracing around the shell of it with his tongue, Rhett shuddering beneath him. He bites down right above the piercing in Rhett’s earlobe, the small gold hoop warm against his lips. “You want more? You want —” he gulps, feeling foolish, “you want my dick inside you, baby?” They don’t have anything for that right now, and Link doesn’t know if he’d even fit, but the idea’s got him _aching_.

“ _Link_ ,” Rhett begs, grinding his hips down against Link’s hand, the tight squeeze of him around Link’s fingers making his head spin, and Link can’t hold back any longer. He pulls his fingers out of Rhett slowly, swallowing up the little whine Rhett makes at the loss with a kiss, then wraps his hand around both their dicks, glorying at the way Rhett grips the sheets white-knuckled beneath him. It feels better when Rhett does this, his long fingers able to wrap completely around them both, but Link loves being the one to make Rhett fall apart, and he knows it won’t take long anyway.

It’s barely half a dozen tugs before Rhett’s slamming his head back on the pillow and arching up, until Link feels a pool of warmth spreading between their bellies. That’s all it takes for Link to come too, burying his face in Rhett’s neck as he shudders and gasps, muffling the sound against Rhett’s heated skin.

They stay like that for long enough that the shadows in the room lengthen and stretch, the setting sun deepening Rhett’s tan skin to a dark gold. Link rouses himself just enough to give them both a cursory wipe-down, then throws the dirty t-shirt to the floor.

There are things he wants to say, realities he knows they’ll have to face sooner or later. Right now, though, stretched out next to Rhett, the sheets a twisted mess beneath them, feeling the steady rise and fall of Rhett’s chest, Link pushes them out of his mind. They’ve got time.

* * *

(It’s Link meeting Christy in their junior year of college, falling fast and hard and then realizing he’s out of time, he has to _choose,_ and making himself sick with it. It’s Christy, soft and sweet and so surprising, always so surprising, pulling him aside after a double date with Rhett and Jessie, a date where Link eats three bites and pushes the rest of his food around on the plate to keep his hands from shaking, asking, “Honey, you two know you don’t have to torture yourselves like this, right?”

It’s Link staring, terrified and furious because he’s tried _so damn hard_ , they both have, feeling those three bites of food start to make their way back up. It’s Christy smiling, pressing up on her toes to kiss him. “Y’all didn’t think you were subtle, did you? The way you look at each other… you look at him like you look at me.”

It’s Link trying to protest, panic rising in his chest, threatening to strangle him, and Christy just shaking her head and laughing. “It’s _okay_ , baby. I knew when we started dating you two were a package deal. Jessie too. You got plenty of love in your heart for both of us. You just promise to keep lookin’ at me the way you look at him, and everything’s gonna be fine.”

It’s Christy going away on a mission trip for a few months afterwards, with a wink and a nod to Rhett, telling him to “take care of our boy.” It’s Link asking her to marry him the day she comes home.)

* * *

It’s like this: Christy is due to have her C-section in three days, and—

“I can’t breathe, man, I can’t—I ain’t ready for this, I can’t be a father, I’m gonna fuck it up like my dad did, I don’t know why she’s even with me, I can’t—”

The gentle press of Rhett’s lips against his cuts off his rambling, and Link curls his fingers in the fabric of Rhett’s button-down like he’s trying to keep from falling. He knows he’s shaking. Rhett cups the back of his head with both hands, threading long fingers through Link’s hair, massaging the base of his neck gently with his thumbs. His huge hands span most of Link’s skull, comforting and solid and familiar. Usually it’s enough to calm him down, but not today. He needs—more.

“Rhett,” he whimpers, and he knows Rhett understands because he untangles his hands from Link’s hair and reaches up to pull Link’s glasses off his face, the motion so soft and practiced it almost feels like Link’s doing it himself. He sets them down on the coffee table, leaving Link blind. It doesn’t matter. He knows Rhett’s got him.

It’s the one thing he always knows.

When Rhett tugs him in for another kiss, there’s nothing gentle about it, and Link could almost cry he’s so grateful. Rhett licks at the seam of Link’s lips and Link opens up eagerly, savoring the familiar taste of Rhett’s mouth. The kiss turns sloppy as it deepens, Rhett nipping at Link’s bottom lip and tugging it into his mouth, sucking on it, making Link groan.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?” Rhett murmurs, and it’s silly because they both know Link does. They’ve been doing this for long enough; they both know Rhett knows exactly how to make Link fall apart. Link shivers at the question anyway, at how rough Rhett’s voice gets when they’re like this, how his drawl becomes more pronounced, like they’re boys again, back in Buies Creek, just discovering each other.

Hands at his hips bring Link back to the present, and he gasps at the swipe of Rhett’s thumbs against the skin that’s exposed where his shirt’s ridden up. “C’mere,” Rhett says, tugging at a belt loop, and Link swings one leg over both of Rhett’s, straddling him, groaning when he feels Rhett’s cock straining against the zip of his jeans.

“ _Please_ ,” Link whispers against Rhett’s lips, letting himself fall forward until they’re pressed chest-to-chest, until Link’s got his elbows resting on Rhett’s shoulders and his hands hanging onto the back of the couch, fingers tracing restless patterns against the fabric.

“I got you, brother,” Rhett answers, licking back into Link’s mouth with intent as his hands skim under the hem of Link’s shirt. “I got you,” he repeats, so soft. He pushes Link’s shirt up slowly, keeping contact with Link’s overheated skin the whole way, guitar-callused fingers stroking his sides just rough enough so that it doesn’t tickle. By the time his shirt’s all the way off, Link’s an absolute wreck and he knows it, knows his hair is messy and he’s probably flushed all the way down to his belly button. He can feel sweat starting to trickle its way down the side of his face. He doesn’t care. He _needs_.

Rhett’s eyes are so dark.

“Stand up,” he says, and although his voice is soft, it’s not a request. Link scrambles up, instantly cold without Rhett pressed against him, but Rhett’s got his hands on him almost immediately, stroking the skin of Link’s stomach, making him tremble. Rhett leans forward, pressing kisses from sternum to navel and back up again. Link moans, hands coming up to hold Rhett’s head, and he wishes, not for the first time, that Rhett would grow his hair out a little, just so he could have something firmer to grip.

Stopping in his progression down Link’s torso, Rhett looks up and laughs, like he knows what Link’s thinking. “I’m thinking about it,” he says, then bites down on the ridge of Link’s hipbone. Link gasps. Rhett’s hands are busy at the fly of Link’s jeans, making quick work of the button and zipper, tugging them down until they puddle at Link’s bare feet and Link’s left standing in nothing but his briefs.

“Still wearin’ them whitey-tighties like when we were kids, huh?” Rhett muses, smoothing his thumbs against the straining muscles of Link’s thighs. Link shudders, scratches behind Rhett’s ears in lieu of a response, a silent plea for _more_.

Always _more_.

Rhett delivers, like he always does, like he always has, pulling Link’s underwear down to his thighs and swallowing his cock down, engulfing it in heat so intense Link’s knees almost buckle. It’s only Rhett’s grip that holds him up, strong arms keeping him from falling.

He leans forward instead, bending his torso over Rhett’s head and grabbing onto his shoulders for leverage, feeling the soft scrape of Rhett’s hair against his stomach as Rhett bobs his head. Below him, Rhett makes small encouraging noises, fingers kneading at the small of Link’s back, pulling him in closer, his rhythm steady and even and exactly what Link needs.

“‘m gonna—” Link chokes out, tension coiling behind his balls. He tugs at the collar of Rhett’s shirt but Rhett doesn’t pull off, just keeps sucking until Link comes down his throat, gasping and shuddering. This time he does collapse, falling forward onto Rhett’s lap as soon as Rhett pulls back. He rests his head on Rhett’s shoulder, panting harshly, as Rhett rubs his back in long, soothing strokes.

“You—” Link says, when he catches his breath.

“Nah,” Rhett answers easily, leaning against the back of the couch. “Pull your drawers up and grab that blanket and come here.”

When they’re snug on the couch, long limbs tangled together so they both fit, Rhett presses a kiss to Link’s forehead, the hair of his goatee scratching just a little. “You’re gonna be an amazing dad, Link. You got nothin’ to worry about.”

Link looks up. “You think so?”

Rhett nods. “Know so. Besides, I’ll kick your ass if you’re not, and you know I can.” He laughs. “Then I’ll take Christy and the baby and we’ll all run away together and—”

Link punches him in the stomach, giggling at the _oof_ Rhett makes. His head isn’t spinning anymore, his hands steadier than they have been all week. He sighs, slides his hand underneath the hem of Rhett’s shirt, splaying his hand against the firm expanse of his belly, eyes drooping shut.

“Thank you,” he whispers. The warm press of Rhett’s lips against his is response enough.

* * *

(It’s Christy asking Rhett and Jessie to be Lily’s godparents, and Rhett crying harder than Link’s ever seen him when Link hands him the little pink-wrapped bundle, his new daughter looking even tinier in Rhett’s giant hands. It’s the overwhelming sense of joy that Link feels when he sees the look on Christy’s face from where she’s reclining on the hospital bed, fond and warm and loving.

It’s Jessie with the same look and the same offer a few years later, and now Link’s the one crying, that feeling of _belonging_ cemented, Locke in his blue blanket feeling nearly weightless in Link’s arms, smaller than he can ever remember Lily being.

It’s the back-and-forth, Lincoln then Shep then baby Lando, until the two families are so entwined they might as well be the McLaughlin-Neals, and it’s maybe a little unorthodox but Link has everything he’s ever wanted, and he and Rhett have never done things according to anyone else’s plans anyway.)

* * *

It’s like this—okay, so Commercial Kings didn’t work out, and for a little while, Link was paralyzed with the fear that they’d uprooted their families across the country for nothing. But now they’ve got GMM, and people are watching— _so many people_ are watching, more every day, and Link feels a swell of pride every time he sees their subscriber count go up.

So things haven’t gone exactly the way he or Rhett imagined, daydreaming back in North Carolina, little boys sure they were gonna make it in Hollywood as famous movie directors. But there’s something to be said for the hard work, the devotion—from their families and to each other—and the sheer luck that’s gotten them where they are. And as he lays here on a plaid picnic blanket, fingers loosely intertwined with Rhett’s as they look up at what stars they can pick out of the smoggy LA sky, he thinks—

“We’re doin’ okay, huh?”

It comes hushed, Link reluctant to disturb the quiet that they’re granted so rarely these days. Christy and Jessie left around noon with the kids, on their way to an overnight trip to Disneyland, and he and Rhett have barely said ten words to each other since. It’s a good kind of silence, a comfortable one, something to be savored.

There’s a rumble from Rhett beside him, somewhere between a hum and a chuckle, and Link feels Rhett’s grip tighten. Turning his head to the side, hair flopping over his eyes, he finds Rhett in a similar position, their noses nearly touching.

“Yeah, bo, we’re doin’ real good,” Rhett murmurs, then closes the distance to press a slow, soft kiss against Link’s lips. He tastes like the oranges that grow rampant on the tree in his backyard, sharp and tart but sweet underneath. He smells like summer. He feels like home.

They stay like that, trading lazy kisses, for so long that Link loses track of time. Rhett’s beard, fuller now than it’s ever been, scratches softly at Link’s skin, and he thinks about a little boy with a sweet, smooth face; about a teenager, stubble-rough; about a young man, sharp jaw defined by a thin border of short blond hair.

Neither of them has started to go grey yet, but Link’s looking forward to it. Rhett will wear silver just as well as he wears burnished gold now, and as for himself, maybe people will finally start taking him seriously if he’s got a little salt-and-pepper going on.

But there’s time for that later. If there’s anything life has taught Link, it’s that somehow, there’s always time.

The first _bang_ makes them jump, teeth clacking together, sending them both into a fit of breathless laughter, giggling like the kids they used to be, the way their own children do now. When Link moves to roll onto his back, Rhett cups the back of his neck and kisses him one last time before letting him go, short and sweet and so warm it makes Link’s heart beat double time.

As the the fireworks bloom high in the sky, red and gold sparkles shimmering in a starburst above them, Link takes Rhett’s hand and laces their fingers together again. Rhett squeezes three times in quick succession, and Link returns it. _Love you too_.

* * *

(It’s like this: after thirty years, it’s all they need.)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You Outshine The Morning Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6521449) by [amanderjean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amanderjean/pseuds/amanderjean)




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